With the Wind in Her Hair
by siriusly cool48
Summary: In his last year of Hogwarts, Harry goes to Godric's Hollow for Christmas, and makes a shocking discovery about his past. What terrible secret did his parents keep from everyone for a year before they died? And how will Harry ever live it down?
1. Christmas in Godric's Hollow

WITH THE WIND IN HER HAIR

ch. 1: Christmas in Godric's Hollow

The Christmas season. Filled with so much excitement and cheer. Harry never really liked the holidays, because since his parents were killed when he was one, he went to live with his horrible aunt's family the Dursleys. There was something else special about this seventeen-year-old. He was a wizard. Every fall semester he took the Hogwarts Express to his boarding school, Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This was the only real home Harry had ever known. All the students were having breakfast one last time before the winter break; they would be boarding the Express to King's Cross Station this afternoon. Harry sat at one of the four long tables in the Great Hall eating with his friends. He was so excited. Since the last thing he wanted to do was go back to the Dursleys for the holidays, he was going to spend the week with his best friend, Ron Weasley, and family.

The Weasleys lived outside of Ottery St. Catchpole in England, in a seven story dilapidated house, held up only by magic. Harry loved this house, called the Burrow, and loved all of the Weasley family. Harry looked at Ron and his younger sister Ginny. They both had fiery red hair and freckles. Also coming to stay with the Weasleys over Christmas was Harry's other best friend, Hermione Granger. Hermione had long thick brown hair and brown eyes. She was top of their year, always having the best grades out of anyone. Though they had never told him, Harry knew that Ron and Hermione both had something for each other. Another boy, who was tall and had a round baby-ish face came up to the group, who were finishing their sausages and eggs. "Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!" He smiled.

"Happy Christmas Eve, Neville." Harry smiled back at his friend. Neville had been the subject of much teasing back in their first year, but became fast friends with Harry when Harry protected him. Then the bell rang for the students to get in the carriages awaiting them. As the friends filed out of the Entrance Hall and climbed into the carriages, Harry made his announcement to Ron and Hermione. "Tomorrow I'm going to visit my parents." Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"But mate, your parents are-"

"Dead. I know. I'm going to Godric's Hollow to visit my house and their graves. Then I'll come back to the Burrow." Hermione and Ron nodded. They soon arrived at the Hogwarts express, and were on their way to King's Cross Station.

* * * * * * *

Harry looked down at the shining face of Mrs. Weasley. "Take care, dear. Don't be too long." She kissed him on the cheek. She was the most maternal figure in Harry's life. "Do you know how you'll be traveling?"

"Apparating." Harry had just earned his apparating license, and couldn't wait to try it out for real. He chanced one more glance at the small kitchen. The knives were chopping up some carrots and celery for stew. The sun was setting on this Christmas day, and everyone else was out in the yard enjoying the surprisingly warm weather. Harry didn't want to make a fuss, so he prepared to leave. He took a deep breath. Destination, Determination, Deliberation. He turned on the spot and fell into blackness. Harry felt like he was being compressed, like he was being squeezed into nothingness. The emptiness was almost unbearable until he burst out with a pop. The cool breeze was like a deep breath in fresh air after swimming in hot water for a while. He opened his eyes. He was in an English suburb, with neat rows of little houses on both sides of him. The house in front of him seemed to be sagging slightly, with a very overgrown garden and a rusty fence. Just off the sidewalk, Harry saw a sign. It seemed like some kind of memorial, saying,

"On this spot on the night of 31 October, 1981 Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son Harry remains the only wizard ever to have survived the killing curse. This house, invisible to muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family."

People had written on the sign: "Good luck Harry, wherever you are," and "If you read this Harry we're all behind you." The words that looked the most fresh said, "Long live Harry Potter." Harry looked at the sign for a moment, and only realized he was crying when he couldn't read the words anymore. He sniffed and wiped his eyes. Looking back at the house, he slowly opened the rusty gate. He strode right up to the house and tested the doorknob. It was unlocked.

The house was dark, and smelled like pine needles. Harry took out his wand and muttered, "lumos." Raising his wand so as to light up the room better, he could see he was in a small sitting room. There was a tattered sofa in the middle, facing an old radio against the wall. There was also a bookshelf, sagging in the middle from the knowledge it held. Harry padded over to the bookshelf, wondering what kinds of books his parents read. Advanced Potions: A Guide to Potion-Making. That was Lily's. He had heard his mother was an excellent potion maker. Great Aurors, Young and Old. That definitely belonged to his dad. Hogwarts, a History, Basic Charms and Spells, and Dark Magic and its Defenses. Harry skimmed the shelves. Then he saw a book laying on the floor by the couch.

My parents must have been looking at that the night they died! Harry cautiously picked up the book. It was thick, with yellowing pages. The cover was hard and did not have a title. Harry blew on it, and a cloud of dust flew into the air, making him cough. He opened the old brown cover. It had pictures of wizards and witches he didn't know, with dates scribbled in untidy hand under them. Must be some sort of photo album. He turned the page, beginning to lose interest, but paused. There was a picture of him! Of course he didn't have his scar or glasses yet, but it was a little boy with black hair crawling up on a man's lap. Harry knew from a picture he had seen that this man was his father. His mother must have been taking the picture. Unlike muggle pictures, magic pictures' subjects moved. Harry's father was ruffling Harry's untidy hair affectionately, and Harry was laughing contentedly. Harry smiled and turned the page.

There was an open envelope in the center of the page, and a folded over picture with a name printed underneath. Jean Evans, 1911. This was nothing special, it must be someone from his mother's side of the family. Harry unfolded the picture and froze. No way. The person pictured in this photograph was shockingly familiar.

Hermione.


	2. Evidence

WITH THE WIND IN HER HAIR

Ch. 2: Evidence

Harry stared at the picture._ How could this be? Hermione was muggle-born, there was no way his parents could have known her, or anyone in her family. _Harry stared at the picture. The girl, who must have been about his age at the time, looked exactly like his friend, besides the fact that her eyes were green._ Like his. _She was sitting on a front porch, and in the picture she was laughing. Her hair was flowing out behind her from a breeze. Harry kept flipping through the book, but there was nothing special about this photo album. Finally he reached the last page, feeling frustrated, having learned nothing new about the picture of Jean Evans. Tucked in the back flap of the book, there was an official-looking envelope. It was labeled _St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies_. The corners looked worn, like it was very old. Harry pulled out the document inside.

**Name: Harry James Potter. Place of Birth: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. **_Oh, so this was his birth certificate!_** Date of Birth: July 31, 1980. Father: James Potter. Mother: Lily Potter.** Yes, that all looked like the right information. Harry pocketed it, thinking it might be useful in the future.

Another flash of yellowing parchment caught his eye as it fluttered out of his hands onto the floor. He picked it up. **Name: Hermione Jean Potter. Place of Birth: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. Date of Birth: September 19, 1979. Father: James Potter. Mother: Lily Potter.** Harry stared at this confusing piece of parchment. How could this be right? Hermione had muggle parents, and she was _not_ related to him in any way! ... How could this be? But Harry could not deny this piece of evidence. It was the right first and middle name, the right birthday. James and Lily could not have forged this. Harry also pocketed the document with Hermione's information on it.

Harry walked upstairs, hoping to find something to answer his questions. At the top of the stairs, there was a hallway opening up to three doors. The first was a bathroom, and Harry passed right by it. The second was a bedroom. _Probably my room_. Pushing open the door, he trotted inside. The curtains were drawn, and the whole room was in shade. Harry found a light switch and turned it. Light flooded the room. The walls, which were painted a light shade of blue, gave an almost tangible sense of peace. A small white baby crib rested in the corner, with a bedside table next to it. Upon further investigation, Harry saw that there was a closet in which a few of his baby outfits hung, and a small first-time broomstick that he had once seen in a picture. It suddenly hit Harry that this was the room in which his mother gave her life for him; the room where he obtained his scar. Harry felt something soft under his foot. He bent down and picked up a stuffed lion. _How appropriate. Both of my parents were in Gryffindor and they expected me to be in it too_. The lion was the Gryffindor mascot. Smiling, Harry placed the animal in the baby crib and left the room, switching out the lights.

The last room's door was locked. Harry quickly unlocked it with the "Alohomora" spell. Upon entry, Harry could tell this was his parents' room. There was a large four-poster bed in the center with a bedside table and table lamp. There was also a desk in the far corner under a window. Harry strode over to the window. He pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Lumos." The light coming from his wand tip flickered over every surface of the desk, so Harry could see it better. He pulled out a chair that was pushed in, and sat down. The only thing on the desk was a quill, an ink well, and a letter someone had begun to write. Harry picked up the letter.

_Dear Sirius,_

_Have you ever noticed that life seems to become more and more complicated as it progresses? James and I are so happy with Harry. Only, there is something else we have not told anyone. We have a daughter. Her name is Hermione Jean, after my mother. Shortly after we were married we had her, but we were too young, too inexperienced. We needed some time to figure out how to be a married couple, as I'm sure all young couples do. So we gave her away. We gave her up for adoption. The adoption center wrote and told us that a nice muggle family adopted her immediately, and she is happy now. They even look a little bit like her, so I'm sure she'll never have to know she isn't theirs. Did you know she looks exactly like my mother? I look like my father, so she won't look like me. But she has James's eyes. Her eyes are a beautiful shade of brown. So then almost a year later we had Harry. We had begun to get the hang of being a family by then. I made a promise to myself that I would not mess up this time. I promised myself that I am going to be the best mother and wife I can be. Thank you so much for all your love and support._

_Love,_

_Lily_

Harry leaned his head back against the chair. _So it was true. Hermione was his sister. He had proof, evidence in his mother's word. And she was adopted. No wonder she looked like Jean Evans. Jean Evans was his grandmother, and Hermione inherited her looks._ Harry supposed that if Hermione had inherited their mother's eyes, he would have known from the start. He sighed. So it was all true then. No one except him knew that Hermione was his sister. Not even Sirius, to whom this letter was addressed, but not sent. Harry briefly wondered what Ron would say when Harry told him what he had found. But Harry didn't really care. He knew the true question.

_How would he tell Hermione?_


	3. With the Wind in Her Hair

WITH THE WIND IN HER HAIR

Ch. 3: With the Wind in Her Hair

"What?"

"No way."

Harry nodded his head. "It's true. You saw the letter, the birth certificate, it has to be true." The trio was sitting in the den of the Burrow, drinking tea. The others were all out shopping at Diagon Alley. Only Mrs. Weasley was home, but she was giving the teens some time to chat. Harry could see her through the window working in the garden.

"But I have muggle parents! I look exactly like my mother! I have my father's eyes, not your father's. And I even have my own birth certificate at my parents' house. There's no way that can be real."

"I didn't believe it at first, either. But how can it be a fake? That's definitely my mother's handwriting, no one else could have put that letter there." Harry was becoming exasperated. How could he convince Hermione that it was true? Then an idea hit him. How stupid! Why didn't he just do this in the first place? "Here." Harry handed the folded photo over to his friends. Hermione unfolded it.

"Whoa. _That_ looks familiar." Ron's eyes were wide as saucers. Hermione's face was going pale.

"That's... _me_..." Hermione ran her finger gingerly over Jean Evan's face. "B-but...how can this be?" She looked anxiously up at Harry. The two looked nothing alike, except for the shape of the face. But other than that, nothing. "Harry, I have to look at the concrete facts. Both of those documents could have been forged, and anyone could have charmed this to look like me. I'm sorry. I don't believe it." Harry's heart sunk. He needed proof, but he didn't have any that would quench Hermione's thirst.

"She's right, mate. I don't think you're related," Ron piped up. "Voldemort's out to get you, remember? He could be toying with your mind. Don't put too much thought into it." But how could he not think about it? The only conclusion Harry could come to was that Hermione was indeed his sister.

He heard a laugh coming from outside. Harry looked out the grimy window. Mrs. Weasley was talking to someone, and smiling. The man's back was turned, but he was thin and had long scraggly hair. He was also carrying a large package under his arm. The man turned towards the house, walked up to the door, and knocked. Ron rose and answered it. "Hey! Stan! What's up?" Stan Shunpike was the conductor of the Knight's bus, a bus that would take wizards and witches anywhere they wanted to go. Stan had helped Harry find his way to the Leaky Cauldron in his third year. They were all personal friends.

"I have a package for Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger. Someone told me they were staying here."

"Hey Stan," I said in greeting. I padded over and grabbed the box from him. It was very heavy. I grunted. "Whoa. What's in this thing?" I wondered, half to myself.

"Don't know. That's for you to find out, I guess. Already paid for. See you guys!"

"Thanks, Stan!" Hermione called from the den. Closing the door behind him, Harry carried the package over and set it down on the kitchen table.

"Hermione, it's addressed to us!" Harry called. Hermione got up and walked over.

"Huh. There's no return address. Wonder who it's from," she said as she slit open the tape. There was a box, a pouch, and an envelope inside. We decided to read the envelope and see who it was from. Harry read aloud.

_Dear Harry and Hermione,_

_We knew you'd figure it out eventually. If you're reading this, it means that Harry activated the Post Charm I set on the letter your mother had written._

"This is from my Dad!" Harry said excitedly.

"Shh! We know! Keep reading!" Ron waved me on. I continued:

_I knew that one day your mother and I will not be there, and Hermione will never know what really happened. Hopefully this will clear things up. Open the pouch, then put its contents inside the box. You will know what to do._

_Love,_

_Dad_

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, then hastily opened the pouch. A glass vile fell into his palm, swirling with a silver liquid, and he recognized it immediately. _A memory! So this means the box must be..._ Harry tore open the box and lifted out its contents. "A pensieve! And a memory! Hermione, my dad must want us to see into his memory!" Harry explained. Ron looked excited; even relieved, but Hermione's face was stone cold. "Please, Hermione. Just look at it with me." Hermione sighed.

"Fine. Just a look." Harry, elated, unstopped the bottle of memory and poured it into the pensieve. He lifted the cup and swirled the liquid around at the bottom, then placed it back on the table. Hermione grabbed his hand.

"We'll be right back then, Ron." Ron nodded, and Harry took a deep breath. He and Hermione simultaneously dunked their heads into the swirling liquid memory. Harry felt a rush of wind and a falling sensation for a moment, then felt a thud as he landed ungracefully on the floor. He opened his eyes. He was in a bright room with white walls; and sun was flooding in through the windows. There was a bed and a cabinet against the wall, and a sink with a mirror. It looked like he was in a hospital. Harry only realized Hermione was still holding his hand when she gave it a squeeze.

"Harry, look!" she whispered. She was pointing at a man who was sitting in an armchair next to the bed where a woman lay. Harry immediately recognized the couple as his parents. Lily's fiery hair was tied up, and James had his hand on her arm.

"Lily, we can't do that. She's our responsibility, and we can't just abandon her." James's brown eyes were pleading.

"James, you know its true. We aren't even accustomed to being married yet, let alone having a baby. We just aren't ready. The muggle family is really nice. They'll take good care of her. We can have another child in a few years. Please trust me." James put his hand to Lily's chin and made her look him in the eye.

"Lily, I do trust you. And I'm going to honor your decision. We can give Hermione to the Granger couple." Both parents looked down at something in Lily's arms. Hermione dropped Harry's hand and inched closer for a better look. Her eyes got wide. Harry cautiously followed, curious but still tentative.

Warmth flooded through Harry. A young Hermione lay asleep in Lily's arms, swaddled in a light pink blanket. She had a thick tangle of hair already; but her teeth hadn't grown in yet. Her rosy cheeks were a striking contrast with her ivory skin. Hermione was slowly reaching her hand out to the baby. Harry wondered briefly whether he should stop her, but decided not to. Hermione's fingertips finally made contact with the silky skin of the baby, and Baby Hermione's eyes fluttered open. Hermione gasped and drew her hand away, staring at the baby's eyes. Harry knew why she was staring. Now that the two were side by side, Hermione could see that her eyes were exact copies of James's. Hermione looked at Harry, and to his surprise, there were tears streaking her face. She smiled.

"Ok, I'm ready to go back now. I finally understand." She took his hand once again and they flew back up to the surface. Harry emerged from the pensieve with a deep breath. He opened his eyes and turned towards his friends. Ron was on his feet now. He looked like he was about to speak, but Harry shook his head quickly and motioned toward Hermione, who had her face buried in her hands. She was sitting at the kitchen table. When she finally looked up she broke the silence. "Harry, I'm sorry I doubted you. It's just so hard to comprehend." To Hermione, not understanding a subject was out of the question. If she didn't get a concept, she would go to a teacher or to the library until her questions were answered. But this time, there was no book, no teacher that could answer her questions.

She got up from the table and walked out onto the porch. Ron and Harry followed. Mrs. Weasley was nowhere to be seen, but Harry pushed that to the back of his mind. Hermione sat on the railing of the porch and motioned for Harry and Ron to do the same. Ron sat on one side and Harry sat on the other. To Harry's surprise, once he had got himself situated, Hermione threw her hands around his neck. "Harry, we're _actually_ brother and sister! I would have never guessed." She drew away and looked at him. "But nothing's going to change. We'll still all be best friends," She grabbed Ron and Harry's hands in her own. "And we'll always be together. Trust me on that." And for the first time, Harry saw a real, joyful, peaceful smile spread across Hermione's face. Though the sun shone warm, a cool breeze blew on Harry's face. It rustled Hermione's hair, tossing it playfully. And with the wind in her hair... she looked just like Jean Evans.


End file.
